Circus
by StarWars-Freak
Summary: Lillian hasn't lived with her father since she was ten. Now she must spend an entire summer with him in LA. What she doesn't realize is that her life is about to change forever. It's a race to find the Lost Daughter of Selene and save the world. Vote!
1. Prologue

**Title:** Circus

**Author: **StarWars-Freak

**Summary: **Lillian Killingsworth hadn't lived with her father since she was ten, and now that her mom was remarrying, she had to spend an entire summer with him in LA, far from her Seattle home. What she didn't realize was that her life would change forever. And now, it's a race against time and the new power of evil to find the lost Daughter of Selene and save the world.

**Genre:** Fantasy/Romance/Drama/Action/Adventure

**Rating:** T/PG-13 for mild language and adult themes

**Centric Characters:** Lillian Killingsworth, Collin Killingsworth, Jimena Castillo

**Circus**

_circus: a ring, circle, orbit, race course_

_**Prologue:**_

Adamantis leaned back in his throne. Finally, he could rest. Lambert was destroyed and the last remnants of his still faithful _Infidi _were gone.

"My Lord," the perpetual teenager bowed before him. He was the tool used to bring Lambert's downfall, but Adamantis wondered if it was wise to retain Lambert's former right hand, the _Infidus _called Tymmie. "Three Daughters have been located."

Adamantis leaned forward; perhaps Tymmie could be useful. "Three? And the fourth?"

"There is no fourth."

"Selene never sends just three."

"My Lord, we have searched. There is not an active fourth necklace." Adamantis frowned. Selene _never_ sent only three; the other must be able to conceal herself.

"Continue your search. I do not trust this at all."

"As you wish, my Lord. I do have news that should put your mind at ease, however." Adamantis raised an eyebrow. "We have located the Magna Mater." Adamantis' frowned even deeper than before; he had hoped that particular hitch in his plans would not come out. Perhaps it was not Pandia; he could deal with another. Tymmie leaned closer and with a smirk, he whispered conspiratorially, "The Magna Mater refuses Selene's call."

Adamantis slowly sat back again. No Magna Mater, no Pandia training the Daughters. He had never heard of the Magna Mater refusing Selene, but without her, Adamantis knew the consequences could be dire. The fourth Daughter was of no particular importance without Pandia.

"You are positive?" Tymmie nodded. "Then do what you must to make sure she can _never_ heed her goddess's call."

"And the fourth Daughter?"

"She makes no difference to me."

Tymmie bowed. "It will be done, my Lord."


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes: **Thank you for the reviews! Keep reviewing! And remember, Fanfiction Awards nominations begin on January First! Make sure you can vote for your favorite stories by checking out the page on the Daughters of the Moon Writers Forum!

**Circus**

_**Chapter 1**_

"Well," Lillian Killingsworth's father shut the trunk lid after sliding her suitcases onto the cement, "This is it." And so it was. The Spanish-style house in LA was nothing like the Seattle townhouse he had moved out of five years ago when he and her mother divorced. She took a deep breath and slung her book bag onto one shoulder.

She followed her father through the front door. White. White walls, white furniture, white pine floors. He led her up the stairs into one of four doors off the hall. More white walls, more white pine floors. White pillows, white douvet.

"I know it's a little sparse, but we can go this weekend and buy whatever you like to decorate."

"Thanks... Dad." He set her suitcases on the floor.

"I'll, uh, let you get unpacked and settled." He left, shutting the door behind him. Lillian fell face first on the bed. At least it was soft.

After a few minutes, she rolled over and got up. She might as well unpack, like her father said. She was staying with him for the entire summer, after all. She once again gazed around the bleak prospect of white. She hated her room at their new house in Seattle. She and her mother had moved in with her new stepfather, Dave, three months ago. Her room there was floral and always in pristine condition, but she would give anything for that touch of color now.

She began neatly stacking her clothes in piles as she lay them in the drawers, but quickly abandoned that pursuit. Unlike Mom, her father would undoubtedly stay away from her underwear drawer and not criticize her for not having neat little rows of perfectly folded and stacked panties.

An hour and a half later, Lillian descended the staircase back to the foyer and glanced around. The sound was silent except for the soft tickling of several analogue clocks dispersed through the house.  
It was just like her father to have analogue clocks, veritable antiques; he liked all that old stuff, mythology, history, antiques, art – he couldn't get enough of it.

"Dad!" she called.

"Kitchen!" came the reply. She looked around.

"Where's the kitchen?"

"Back of the house." She followed the main hallway all the way back to a swinging door that opened into a spacious, colorless kitchen. "All done, kiddo?" her father closed the laptop he had been working on.

"Yeah, all done." They stood in awkward silence for a moment.

"Are you hungry?"

"Starving."

"Great!" She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Me too. I'm starving too."

"So..." she gestured towards the well furbished kitchen, "you cook now?"

"No. No, I just have pots for decoration." She furrowed her brow, wondering if he was being sarcastic. "I cook from time to time. I always have; you're mother just wasn't a fan of what I can cook."

"What can you cook?" she asked with trepidation, wondering just how awful it could be, if even her mother's cooking was better.

"I can cook some Mexican dishes."

"What! Mom and I love Mexican!"

"No, you and your mother love upscale Taco Bells. I learned to cook from a woman who cooked real Mexican food."

"All right, Mr Hot-Shot-Mexican-Food-Chef, let's see what you got." She leaned against the island, as he rummaged through the cupboards.

"Looks like we have everything we need for _pollo con mole dulce_."

"Whatever that is, it sounds great."

"Then let's get to work."

"Wait, I get to cook too?"

"I'm guessing your mother still doesn't let you get within ten feet of her while she's cooking."

"I'm not even allowed in the kitchen!" Dad laughed and motioned her around the island.

"Let's get you started chopping... you know how to use a knife properly, right?"

"Yes, Dad." He pulled a knife out of a drawer (Lillian noted the knife drawer was on the right of the sink) and a bag of chicken from the freezer.

"Fresh chicken is always better, but this will do. Skinless," he pointed to the advertising on the bag, "very important." Since they were still frozen, he popped two chicken breasts into the microwave to defrost. A few minutes later, he pulled them back out and plopped them on the cutting board. "Just cut them into little cubes while I get the sauce ready."

Lillian went about cutting the chicken into perfectly even cubes, which made Dad laugh when he looked over to check her progress.

"You don't have to be so precise; a few slices long, a few slices wide, and you're good to go."

"I take French, not Spanish; I happen to like being perfect, thank you!" she said with a playful toss of her hair.

He laughed some more, and Lillian had trouble recalling him laughing like that when she was younger, before the divorce. "Well, _princess_, once you're done with your perfectly sized pieces, why don't you come over here and I'll show you the secret to perfect _mole dulce_."

When she was done, she sauntered over, taking her sweet time and causing both of them to burst into laughter again.

"All right, all right, com'ere." He pulled her over to the stove where he was stirring a delightfully aromatic sauce. "The secret to the best _mole dulce_ is the chocolate." Lillian perked up at that word, possibly her favorite ever. "Here taste this." He held a piece of delicious looking chocolate; she eagerly took it and shoved it in her mouth, not seeing her father's motioning to stop until it was too late.

"Ew!" Whatever that awful thing was, it was not chocolate. "What is that?"

"Chocolate."

"It's bitter!"

"Yes, it's chocolate in it's original form... well, not it's original form, because it doesn't grow on trees in bar form like that, but with it's original taste, nothing added to it." Lillian went to the fridge and pulled out the milk. Her father kindly handed her a glass (third shelf to the left from the fridge) and waited for her to attempt to wash out the bitter taste. Once she was finished, he continued, "_Dulce_ means sweet, so people who don't know how to make _mole dulce_ properly think they need to use regular sweetened chocolate, but you should always use bitter chocolate and sweeten the sauce yourself with _azucar_, sugar. Now," he stop stirring the mixture and turned on the heat for another burner. "I think we're ready for the chicken."

Finally the delicious meal was ready to be devoured. She and Dad sat at the kitchen table (Lillian couldn't remember ever eating some where other than the dining room at her mother's house) and in unison took the first bite.

"Mmmm!" She couldn't believe how wonderful it was. "Who taught you how to cook?"

A pensive look took over his features. "_Abuela_ Castillo."

"_Abuela_, that means 'grandmother,' right? Wait, you're grandmother was Mexican?"

"No, no, I just called her '_abuela_.' I'm glad you like it though."

"I love it!" They ate in amiable silence for a while. "You're different from how I remember."

"What do you mean, how you remember. We talk at least once a week."

"I know, but that's not the same. You never used to be... fun."

He laughed. "Well, I wasn't very happy when you were younger."

"Because of Mom."

"No, Lillian, because of me. Susan... your mother... she's a great woman. I just wasn't the man she wanted or needed, and that's hard for a man to have to live with."

"You never fought. You just one day decided to leave."

"I did not just one day decide to leave, Lillian. And fighting with your mother would have required communicating with her. Lillian... marriages don't crumble over night; it's a slow fade, that began before you were even born."

"You guys had me like a year after you got married."

"Thinking that it would fix things." They fell silent again. "Listen, Lillian, what matters now is that the two of us have a relationship, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"I think this summer is gonna be good for us."

"I think so too, Dad."

"Have you thought any about how you want to decorate your room?"

"I can decorate it any way I want?"

"Short of torture devices, sure, why not?"

"Red, black, and cheetah print?"

Dad stared at her in amazement. "You are so much like your aunt it's unbelievable."

"Really?" Lillian had never known her aunt, but she had always felt connected to the mysterious woman through her middle name, Serena, and her mother's obvious disapproval of her. Dad rarely spoke of her, but Mom snidely told her at one point how Aunt Serena had run off with her druggie boyfriend when she was only sixteen.

"Yeah. Short of being suspicious that you're secretly a telepath, like I was with your aunt, and your hair color, I'd say you're exactly the same." Lillian froze. Telepath?

"Telepath?"

"Yes, you're aunt always seemed to know what I was going to say before I said it. Why the interest? I think you're old enough to know psychics don't exist," he gave her a strange look, eyes flicking to where her neck met her shoulder.

"Oh. I was just curious because sometimes I have these really strong senses of déjà vu, you know. And I thought maybe Aunt Serena..."

"No, no déjà vu, Serena just knew me so well that she knew what I would say to things," he said haltingly, like he didn't want to give more away.

Did Aunt Serena have what Lillian had? Visions in her dreams that would keep her awake at night wondering when they would happen? Visions that always came true? Visions that were sometimes so precise that she could hear what was being said?

"Any way, red, black, and cheetah print sounds like a great idea."

"Yeah. And I was also thinking that maybe, you know, you kinda have this monochromatic thing going on..."

"If you want to put some color into the house, be my guest. I'm not very good at that sort of thing; I just know that white goes with white."

"And a lot of other things, Dad."

"Short of furniture and things I hate, you can pick out whatever you want for the rest of the house." He pushed his plate away from him; at the same time, Lillian dropped her fork onto her plate. "That was good."

"Yes, it was."

"Well, kiddo. It's," he glanced at his watch, "Almost 8 on a Friday night. I wish you knew some people your own age; LA's got a great night life for teens, but it's just stupid to go out alone."

"That's okay. I'll just stay in and relax tonight."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, about that. I don't have a TV in the house; I meant to go pick one up before you got here, but I lost track of time."

"I'm not much of a TV gal. I'll just read."

"You read? Like books?"

"Yeah, I read, like books."

"I love to read."

"I know. You used to read to me every night, even when I could read for myself, you would read a chapter and I would read a chapter."

"The chairs in the den might be monochromatic but they're also very comfortable."

"Cool. I'll go grab my book and we can... read together."

"Okay then."

"Where's the den?"

"Door straight across from the staircase."

"I'll be down in a few minutes." As she walked away, she glanced back at her father who was cleaning up with irrepressible joy at the prospect of reading with his daughter. She smiled and hurried upstairs. She didn't want to keep her dad waiting.

She deliberated at her truncated book choice for the perfect book to read that night. Finally, she decided on the _Odyssey_ (Dad would doubtlessly approve), and turned to leave. Something within her, however, brought her to a standstill in front of her dresser, where the travel case she used for her jewelry sat. With slightly shaking hands, she lay the book down and picked up the bag. After slipping her hand inside, she felt around until her hand hit cool metal. She pulled the necklace free and held the pendant, face up, in her palm.

It was beautiful, silver etched with the face of the moon, but in the same way, it terrified her. She had been so drawn to the necklace her mother uncovered while they packed to move into Dave's house. It had been a gift, her mother explained, from an old lady at the hospital the night she was born. Her mother had only taken it to get rid of the insistent woman, and Lillian had never worn it until the day it fell out of a box in the attic of their old townhouse fifteen years later. She remembered vividly the shivers that raced up and down her spine; she also remembered vividly how the visions increased tenfold while she wore it. And after one week, she began to fear the shadows in the corners of her room, as she had as a child.

She had not worn the necklace since.

But something almost otherworldly possessed her to bring the necklace with her to LA. She continued to stare at the face of the moon.

"Lillian? You get lost?" her father's call from the bottom of the stairs startled her from her reverie.

"No, I'm coming!" She dropped the pendant onto the floor, grabbed her book and flew downstairs.

But not without one more look at the necklace that seemed to call out to her even into her dreams.


	3. Chapter 2

**Note: **Thank you all so much for the reivews! Keep reviewing, please! Remember that Nominations for the First Annual Year's End Daughters of the Moon Fanfiction Awards begins January 1st! Celebrate the end of 2008 by showing your favorite authors just how much you enjoy their stories! Check out the thread at Daughters of the Moon Writers Forum for more information!

**Circus**

_**Chapter 2**_

_The girl tossed and turned in her sleep, shadows crowding in around her. She whimpered as another dream shook her grasp on reality. She was drowning in despair. Why did this happen to her? Why couldn't she control her own mind...?_

_-_

_She sunk to the marble tile of the bathroom floor, clutching the thing that had just ended her life. She could read minds, but how could she have known this would happen? How was she supposed to face her parents? Why did the strip have to be positive?_

_-_

_The light was hard on her eyes at home; she couldn't study properly. That was the only reason she was doing it. She let her molecules rip away from each other. Why did it have to be so difficult to use her power? It had been so easy, too easy, as a child, and now when she needed it most, why was it painful?_

_-_

_Tears poured from the girl's face as she squeezed her mother's hand. A steady beep and the constant flow of nurses and doctors in and out of the room to check the many tubes protruding from under the sheets were the only indicators the woman was still alive. The girl stared hard at her analogue watch. Surely, if she could go backwards and forwards in time, she could stop time for her mother to live just a little longer... couldn't she?_

_-_

"_They need you. You must live to do your duty once more... Pandia."_

_-_

Jimena Castillo sat straight up in bed, holding her hand over her heart. Cold sweat drenched her entire body, and she could barely catch her breath.

"Baby, you ok?" Nick asked groggily from beside her. She patted his bare chest.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just... need some water." She swung her legs over the side of the bed and got up. After padding into Nick's kitchen, she poured herself a glass of water and stood in front of the sink, staring out the window over the New York skyline.

She stood there past dawn and until her alarm rung from inside Nick's bedroom. Finally she took a sip of the full glass and poured the rest out.

Work, she had to get ready for work.

Hours later, she stood at the coffee pot in her office, staring at the wall like it wasn't even there.

"Helllloooo!" the call and a hand waving widely in front of her face snapped her from her reverie.

"Hey, Sarah."

"Hey. I've only said that like ten times."

"Sorry, I didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

"Ooh, sounds like my kinda night. Especially with a guy like Nick."

"No, not like that." Sarah raised an eyebrow. "I mean, yes, but... I just couldn't sleep... afterwards."

"Really? I always thought a guy like Nick could wear any girl out."

"I had a really strange dream that kept me awake. Besides, I don't think it's going to work with Nick."

"Not going to work with Nick? Are you crazy?"

"Yes, actually, yes, I think I'm going _loca_, Sarah!" Jimena waved her arms around frantically, wishing she could explain things to her friend.

"Ok, just calm down." She placed her hands on Jimena's shoulders. "As your best friend," Jimena barely kept herself from wincing, "I am obligated to remind you that you are 38 years old. You have a job a thousand women would die for. And you have a great guy. You're not going crazy and things are going to work out with Nick."

"What if I don't want things to work out with Nick?"

"What are you talking about? Of course you do! He's funny, has a great ass, a steady income, isn't married, and is fantastic in bed. What else could you want in a guy?"

"Someone I could – " Tony, her assistant, stuck his head in.

"Ms. Castillo, Sandra McDonnell is on her way over."

"Ok, thank you, Tony," she said with a false smile. As he left, Sarah rushed over to the mirror Jimena had on her wall and began to fix herself.

"Ugh! How can you be so calm about _Sandra McDonnell_?"

"She's just a supermodel, Sarah," Jimena responded with a sigh as she pulled Sandra's file. The supermodel in question had just had the best article written on her but she insisted on coming to speak with Michelle Richards, the editor-in-chief of _People_, whose office Jimena managed. "I was raised in Hollywood," she continued when Sarah remained completely unconvinced, "I can't remember ever being star struck."

"I don't think I'd be able to speak with Sandra McDonnell in the room."

"That," Jimena said as she brushed past Sarah, "Is why you don't have my job."

The haughty supermodel exited the elevator just as Jimena stepped out of her office.

"Ms. McDonnell," Jimena walked towards her. "Welcome. My name is Jimena Castillo. Mrs. Richards is expecting you; her office is this way." Jimena smiled graciously and led her to Michelle's office. "Mrs. Richards, Ms. McDonnell is here."

"Of course." Michelle, always the epitome of grace and professionalism rose to greet the disgruntled supermodel. "Welcome, Sandra. Please take a seat. Jimena, water for our guest." Jimena poured a ice water and handed it to Sandra with another gracious smile, repressing entirely the urge to pour it into her lap.

Once Sandra was comfortable, Michelle dismissed Jimena, who eagerly but calmly left her boss's office.

A delivery boy was waiting in the reception area of the office. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I'm lookin' for a Jim-ee-nah Cast-ill-oh."

"Jimena Castillo." She smiled tightly and took the package from him.

"There's a water spill over by the couches," an elderly woman walked up to Jimena without preamble.

"Thank you for informing me, ma'am. I will have someone from the janitorial staff come take care of it."

"Well, isn't that your job?" she asked looking at the obviously Hispanic woman with slight disdain.

"No, ma'am. My job is to run this office. Tony."

"Yes, Ms Castillo?"

"Have someone clean up the spill over by the couches please."

"Yes, Ms Castillo."

"Thank you." She turned to the shocked woman. "Excuse me, please."

Jimena turned and walked into her office, nearly slamming the door. She let out a frustrated scream, thankful that the walls of her office were sound proof, then slumped against the door. It was going to be a long, long day.

Jimena finally shoved her keys into the lock of her apartment door at nine-thirty that night. "No, Nick, honestly, tonight I just want to pass out," she said into her cell phone as she struggled to get her keys to turn.

"All right, I love you," he said dejectedly.

"Yeah, you too." She flipped her phone shut without saying good bye and after a couple shoves against the door, it opened for her.

She walked in, kicking off her shoes and dropping her purse as she went. And when Jimena looked at her couch, she suddenly wished she was still at work.

She had taken the form of a young woman, platinum blonde hair, pretty blue eyes, and were it not for the ethereal glow and too serene smile, Jimena would have thought Barbie broke into her apartment.

"You know, most deities would have taken the hint."

"Pandia."

"Jimena."

"_Pandia_, I've been calling to you for months now. You receive my visions yet do nothing!"

"Selene, the Atrox is gone; Nefandus is locked up! You have no more need for me, so _leave me alone!_"

"The Atrox may be gone, but evil is not! Adamantis does not think I see his plots, but I do. You must train my Daughters!"

"Thanks, but no." Jimena walked into her kitchen, ignoring the moon goddess following her.

"You have seen the visions, how those girls suffer from lack of guidance. Should they continue without guidance, they will all be destroyed or worse!"

"Selene, look. I have a boyfriend and a job and an apartment and a life and it's across the country from where those girls are. I'm happy being just Jimena Castillo – "

"Jimena Castillo? I have watched over you for your entire life. You are not Jimena Castillo; you have no hope. Even in your darkest days, you hoped for the future. You were always a warrior who lived life with every breath you took, and now you breathe."

"Get out."

Selene looked away, pain apparent on her features. "There's an interesting message on your answering machine." She turned back to face Jimena and placed a warm, soft hand on her face. "Regardless of how you reject me, you are my daughter, and I love you, Pandia... Jimena." She turned her face towards the window. "Even though you cannot see it, the moon is still there, shining our light upon the world." And Selene was gone into the night.

Jimena rubbed her temples. This was not how she wanted to end her day. After pouring a glass of wine, she walked back to her living room and hit the blinking button on her message machine.

Hello, you have reached Jimena Castillo. Unfortunately, I am not available, so if you will leave your name, number, and a message, I will call you back when I can. Thank you. _Alo, has llamado al telefono de Jimena Castillo. Disafortunademente, no estoy aqui. Por favor, dime tu nombre, tu numero del telefono y un mensaje. Te llamare cuando es posible. Gracias._

_Senorita Castillo,_ _alo, me llamo Adrian Melles_ the Salvadorian accented voice rang from the speakers. _Trabajo para_ People en Espanol _en Los Angeles. Una colega me dijo sobre ti. Te llamo por que nosotros tenemos una posicion para ti con nuestra seccion de los intereses humanos. Por favor llamame..._

Jimena stopped listening as Adrian Melles recited his telephone number. Human interests... no more supermodels or drama queens, no more being mistaken for a maid simply because she was Hispanic... She didn't even know what the position was and she was already hooked. She shook her head; she couldn't believe the steps Selene would take to manipulate her into returning to LA.

Jimena collapsed onto the couch where Selene was sitting when she had entered. Her hand grazed something hard and metal. After picking up the offending object, she gasped as she realized what it was.

Jimena had thrown the gorgon head medallion into the Hudson River upon moving to New York twenty years before. And now, as she held it in her hand, tears sprang to her eyes.

But the gorgon only stared, stone eyes unblinking, captivating her in their magic.

"_They need you. You must live to do your duty once more... Pandia."_


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes:** Thank you all for the wonderful reviews! Nomination for the _**First Annual Year's End Fanfiction Awards**_ is open until January 15th! Nominate all your favorite stories! See the thread on the Daughters of the Moon Writers forum.

**Circus**

_**Chapter 3**_

Lillian rubbed her eyes as she trudged down the stairs that morning. Her dad was already in the kitchen, dressed and ready to go, when she pushed the door open.

"Not an early bird, I take it," he said after observing her.

"Usually I am, but I just had trouble sleeping last night." She suppressed a shudder at the thought of her terrifying visions of guys with yellow eyes and sinister smiles surrounding her and three other girls, none of whom Lillian had ever seen before outside of her visions.

"Coffee?" he held up a mug.

"Yes, please." He poured her a cup and handed it to her across the island. "So how long have you been up?"

"Oh, four hours or so."

"Four hours! It's only eight!"

"Yeah, I know. But I wanted to get out to the beach before you woke up."

"The beach? You hate the beach!"

Dad raised his eyebrows. "Really? Huh, must have slipped mind," he said with a laugh.

"I'm serious. You used to hate taking me to Lake Union."

"That's because Lake Union is not the ocean. I've always loved the beach."

"So what did you do there at four in the morning?"

"Surfed."

"When did you start surfing?" Was it worse than she thought? Was her father actually having a midlife crisis? So what if he didn't look forty, he could still be suffering from it!

"When I was about ten."

"You never told me that!"

"Your mother was not a fan, and the surf is nothing up in Washington, so it never came up."

"But what about when you moved down here? You never told me, and we talk on the phone once a week!"

"Your life is far more interesting to me than mine. I wanted to hear about your life."

"Okay, so you can name all of my friends and know stuff about me, but I know nothing about you. I didn't know you could cook or that you surf. Do you have a girlfriend, friends?"

"I have friends, no girlfriend. I'm sorry, Lillian, I didn't realize you wanted to know anything about me. I'll introduce you to all my friends; I'll take you surfing; we can do whatever you want to do, and if one of those things is learn about my life, than that's great." He set a plate of scrambled eggs on the counter for her, and she slipped onto the stool and began to shovel them down her throat. "Woah, there, kiddo, no need to eat so fast."

"We're going shopping today, right?"

"Right."

"So…" she waved her fork around as though it should be obvious.

He chuckled and shook his head. "Of course, of course."

After finishing her eggs and coffee, Lillian ran back upstairs to her room to shower and dress for the day. Forty five minutes later, the father-daughter duo left the house together, ready for the day, though Lillian seemed far more enthusiastic than her father.

"What about her?" Lillian pointed with her straw several hours later, as they sat outside a restaurant.

"Nope."

"You don't think she's pretty?" Lillian looked at her father incredulously. For the past half hour she had not gotten him to admit to finding a single woman she pointed out for him attractive. How was she supposed to get him a girlfriend if she didn't know his type?

"She's pretty; she's just not my type." He looked at her. "Lil, I doubt you're going to find my type here."

"Come on, Dad! Just tell me your type. It's not blondes, redheads, or brunettes. No particular body type has caught your interest. Mom obviously isn't your type." She turned to him and mimicked a reporter as closely as possible. "What is your perfect woman?"

"Lillian, the idea of a perfect woman, a perfect person… I'm thrilled that you believe in that. You're fifteen you should. I'm forty. I thought for a very long time that she existed, and even when I found out she didn't, I still hung on to it and that worked to destroy your mom's and my marriage." He sighed and looked away. "The idea of 'one true love' exists only when you're a teenager."

"Did Aunt Serena think she had found her one true love? Was he perfect to her?"

Collin frowned. "Serena… Serena was… different. Her relationship with Stanton" – Stanton, Lillian noted his name – "was different. She knew his flaws very well."

"But she loved him anyway?"

"I think she loved him for his flaws, to be honest. At least in some way." It was Lillian's turn to frown. Loving someone for their flaws didn't make sense at all. Especially if he was a druggie like her mother said.

"Collin?" a feminine voice called with excitement. Lillian whipped around, as Collin got up, smiling.

The woman in question was gorgeous, despite her age. Blonde wisps fell around her face in a stylish bob, and blue eyes sparkled, as she and her father embraced. Bracelets jangled on her wrists, but Lillian noticed no ring sparkled from a particular finger.

She stood and walked over to where her father and the mysterious woman were exchanging hellos.

"You must be, Lillian," the woman said as she swooped to kiss her on the cheek. Okay, so a little perkier than what Lillian would have guessed for her father, but it seemed most woman in LA were like that, and Dad did say he loves LA.

"Lillian, this is Vanessa Cleveland, a friend of mine," her father introduced them.

"A friend of yours?" she pounced. "A friend you haven't spoken to in a month!" She turned to Lillian. "Your father has horrible follow through, but don't all men?"

"Well, he can make it up to you," she said, formulating a plan in her head, "why don't you and your family come over for dinner one night. I would love to get to know Dad's friends."

Her father shot her a look. "Well, aren't you sweet?" Vanessa said, obviously missing the look. "Collin, what do you say to that?"

"Of course, you're invited to dinner. Tomorrow night, okay?"

"Tomorrow night is perfect." She smiled at him. That was a good sign, right?

"So how many should I shop for then?"

"Oh, just the three of us," Collin answered. "Unless, you'd like to bring your cat, Vanessa."

"I think I'll leave her at home; thank you. Well, I have to jet. Lillian, it was so wonderful meeting you. I'll see you both tomorrow night, sixish?"

"Sixish," Lillian replied.

"Bye," she called as she flounced away.

Lillian turned to her father, "Is _she_ your type?" Collin only shook his head and sat back down at the table.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes: PLEASE READ!** Today is the 12th. _Nominations for the **First Annual Year's End Daughters of the Moon Fanfiction Awards** end on the 15th!_ Get your voice heard! See the Daughters of the Moon Writers forum for more details! Also, keep a lookout on the forum around Feb 1st for a romance oneshot challenge hosted by BatsuSimisu-Chan and I just in time for Valentine's Day!

**Circus**

_**Chapter 4**_

"Jimena, it's your call. This would be a promotion for you," Michelle Richards was saying in her office the next day.

"Michelle, I'm not taking the job; I just wanted to let you know about the offer."

Michelle threw up her hands and shrugged. "If that's what you want." She didn't sound convinced.

"I love my job here." She glanced down at her watch. "I should go: Sarah is waiting."

"Have a good weekend."

"You too, Michelle."

Jimena shook her head as she left the office; that hadn't exactly been the reaction she was hoping to get out of her boss. Had Selene gotten to Michelle too?

"Ready to go?" Sarah fell into step with Jimena as she walked towards the elevator.

The two colleagues and friends made their way down into the street, and just as a cab pulled to the curb at Sarah's call, Jimena felt a sensation that she had not felt in a long time. She was being watched.

She looked towards the origin of the feeling. Her breath caught. No way; it couldn't be possible.

But there he was plain as day, lighting up a cigarette and staring through the new haze of smoke. He had not changed. Not a single hair was different. Tymmie. Selene had mentioned Adamantis, but Lambert too? And here? In New York?

There was only one reason he was here.

"Jimena, you okay?"

Jimena looked at Sarah and a flash of a vision, whether sent from Selene or her old nemesis she had no idea, but suddenly Sarah's bright blue eyes were clouded over with the haze of hopelessness. Jimena shoved her into the cab, yelled an address to the cab driver, slammed the door and took off in the opposite direction. She could feel Tymmie trying to weave his way into her mind, but despite being horribly out of practice blocking mental attacks, she was able to keep him out.

She hated this feeling, the feeling of being on the defense. Twenty years ago, she would have stood her ground, fought him head on. Now, she ran in fear. She wasn't a warrior, not anymore.

He was gaining on her. She could feel his presence, closer and closer. Stupid heels and being out of shape for this kind of activity, namely running for her life. She turned a corner, hoping to escape, and instead finding herself trapped in an ally way. Predictable, but somehow she was caught off guard.

"You run, and not to set a trap. How interesting." Tymmie came into the mouth of the ally, blocking her in.

Jimena looked towards the sky, hoping for a glimpse of the moon. But it was impossible to see through the city lights. Still, she took a deep breath and started to gather her energy to fight him off.

He laughed.

"Jimena, now, now, do you really think I would let you do that?" He sent her a mental shock wave to throw off her preparation. He peered at her perfectly made-up face, where not a glimmer of her past life remained. And laughed again. "You're not a threat. You're not even a mild annoyance. Adamantis will be satisfied with this and I'll have the satisfaction of letting you live this pitiful life. I don't even have to take your soul to see hopelessness."

Jimena ignored the jab at her present state. "Adamantis? What about your loyalty to Lambert?"

He raised a pierced eyebrow. "I'm not called _Infidus_ for anything, _dea_." And with one last laugh at her plight, he disappeared into shadow.

Jimena wasn't quite sure how she got back to her apartment. She finally woke from her daze, sitting on her couch, as a cup of hot tea was pressed into her hand and a kiss as soft as moonlight touched her forehead. She looked around, but Selene, her mother, had already gone.

On the coffee table was her medallion; after taking a long drink from her tea to calm her nerves, she picked it up and for the first time in twenty years, slid the chain around her neck and let the gorgon head rest just above her wildly beating heart.

Slowly, Jimena stood and walked to her hall closet. From there, in the far corner of the top most shelf, she pulled down a shoe box. The contents rattled as her hand shook.

When she had settle back on the couch, she lifted the lid. Mementos from her past life had been put in that box haphazardly years before in her desperate haste to pack and leave LA. She had not looked at them since.

She removed an old photograph. And there they all were. Vanessa, her blond hair streaming behind her, blue eyes twinkling with a cheerful laugh. Catty, paint-stained clothes, mischievous grin ever present. Tianna, gorgeous without trying, skateboard tucked under her arm. Serena, crazy clothes adorning her body, a far off expression that told Jimena Stanton had been on her mind. And Jimena, herself. Arms crossed across her chest, teardrop tattoos pronounced on her cheek.

Spent hours rifling through and studying her past. At some point in the early hours of the morning she fell asleep, a photograph of her and the Killingsworth's clutched in her hand.

_Four girls stood in a terrified circle, looking around them, unable to move, unable to use their powers. Their attackers, all with yellow glints in their eyes eased closer._

_*_

_Four girls again. Now, they rifled through a library full of books on magic and mythology. A door opened and closed somewhere in another room. They looked up, frightened of being caught._

_*_

_Collin now. No different than the last time she saw him. A little older. At home on his board, as he always was. Then a powerful tidal wave came out of nowhere. Crashing down on him. Drowning him._

Jimena woke with a start. What was wrong with her? Those Daughters. They really did need her. And Collin… why was Collin involved?


	6. Chapter 5

**Note: PLEASE READ!** Even if you didn't get to nominate your favorite stories for the _**First Annual Year's End Daughters of the Moon Fanfiction Awards**_, you can still _**VOTE**_ from the list now posted on the thread on the Daughters of the Moon Writers forum. **Circus's very own Lillian** has been nominated for Best Original Character - Daughter! **Also**, be on the DotM Writers forum on February 1st for a nice surprise, when BatsuSimisu-Chan and I **unveil a new challenge just in time for Valentine's Day**!

**Circus**

_**Chapter 5**_

Lillian woke up that Monday morning quite disappointed with herself. Dinner had not gone at all how she planned. Oh, Vanessa was great, but it was obvious five minutes into dinner that she would never want Collin. Instead, she offered to introduce Lillian to a teenage girl she "worked with"; apparently, Vanessa was a counselor with a specialty in displaced teenage girls with a penchant for running away. Lillian was not entirely convinced she would get along all that well with some psychotic run away.

She trudged down the stairs and into an empty kitchen. It was her first day on her own; her father would be at work until 5 that evening. Fresh bagels sat on the counter next to a note from him.

"Lillian – I asked a friend from the beach to stop by so you wouldn't be stuck at home alone all day. He said he'd be happy to show you the beach, if you'd like. See you tonight! – Dad."

She idly wondered when the friend was going to stop by as she toasted her bagel. She should probably shower and change out of her worn-out sweat pants and fading "Goddess" tank top, but rather than going back upstairs, she took her bagel into the den pulled a very beat-up, read many times over book randomly from the shelf. If he was a friend of her Dad's, he probably had his own teenage daughter and would be used to it.

She took a bite out of her cream cheese-laden bagel and opened the book on mythology. She had never seen so many notes in the margins of a book in her life. There didn't seem to be a free space anywhere. Trying to ignore her father's minute scrawls on the page (though it was hard, as sometimes he would cross things out and write his own versions), Lillian immersed herself in _The History of the Classical World: An Analysis of Mythology as Historical and Scientific Documents_.

An hour into her reading the textbook, the back door of the house opened and closed. Startled, Lillian looked up from the book, but quickly realized it must be her father's friend. She lay the book down, still open to the title page of "Pandora's Box," which was so scribbled upon that it would take an hour to decipher a paragraph, she was sure, and went towards the back of the house to greet him.

She pushed open the kitchen door and froze in shock. Two teenagers, a boy and a girl, probably about her age, had just entered through the back door. The girl, who looked vaguely familiar, just stood there, staring back at Lillian with a blank expression. The boy, whose dark face broke into a wide grin – which incidentally showed off two cute dimples and amazingly white teeth – walked forward with an outstretched hand.

"You must be Lillian; I'm Gregory." Lillian limply shook his hand. Why had she chosen not to shower and put on something cute and maybe dab a little make up on…? "I hope we didn't startle you, just coming in like that. Collin never minds, and he said you were expecting us… or me, at least."

"You're… you're my dad's friend?"

Gregory chuckled a little. "Yeah, I know, it's weird, but Collin was the one to teach me how to surf, and he's not really like a normal adult… You know?"

Of course she knew! Who did this unearthly adorable guy think he was? Asking her if she knew something about her own father? Psh. But her mind registered the fact that she should not say this and instead opted for nodding.

"Gregory," the girl spoke up finally, with no inflection or real emotion in her voice at all, "maybe you should let go of Lillian's hand and let her go get ready for the beach." She looked at Lillian now. "I'm Elizabeth."

Lillian was surprised by the name, expecting something more Indian sounding for the girl with a face that could have been straight from the cover of a Bhaliwood movie, but she waved awkwardly with her left hand, hoping the surprise didn't show. She didn't particularly mind Gregory holding onto her hand, but he dropped it anyway, and after muttering a quick "I'll be right down", she dashed up the stairs to attempt to make a better second impression.

After rushing to get ready, Lillian followed Gregory and Elizabeth to the beach where her father spent most of his early mornings. She had hoped to spend time with Gregory, walking along the shoreline, getting to know each other as the sea-wind whipped through their hair. She would have even been able to stand the silent, somber Elizabeth joining them, as long as she could keep Gregory to herself. But almost immediately after reaching the beach, Gregory decided "waves were calling" and rushed off to surf, leaving Lillian with Elizabeth.

The two teenage girls with nothing in common but age stood silently and awkwardly in the sand.

"So… Gregory's your…"

"Friend." Elizabeth regarded her with a hard eye. "There's a line of girls waiting for their chance. He's not interested in anything but the waves." She paused, then with a tone of command, "Don't try."

Lillian was taken aback by the girl's cadence, but something about her, something strange and unidentifiable, told Lillian her new acquaintance would make good on her unspoken threat.

"He's cute, but not my type. I mean, he's friends with my father. Creep-o," she said as lightly and convincingly as possible.

Elizabeth looked at her a moment, then nodded and relaxed.

Elizabeth stripped down to her bikini, showing off her bronzed complexion. Lillian stared slightly envious until the necklace around Elizabeth's neck caught her attention. Lillian gasped a little too loudly, and Elizabeth turned to look, obviously uncomfortable under her attention.

"Can I help you?"

"Your necklace… it's… beautiful."

The other girl clasped her hand over the moon and face etched into the pendant. "Thanks."

"It's just… I have one that looks exactly the same, but I've never seen anyone else with it."

"It's not the same one." She sat on her towel.

"Well, you don't know that."

"Yes, I do. My mother says it was given to her by an old lady in the hospital the night I was born. It's a gift from Shiva."

Lillian brushed off the fact that she had no idea what Shiva was, other than the name of some mythological, evil destroyer, and sat on her own towel, eagerly leaning towards Elizabeth.

"A woman gave my mother the necklace the day I was born as well. It must have been the same woman! Listen," she dropped her voice low, "Do you ever get nightmares when you wear yours to bed?"

Elizabeth glared at her. "You're not wearing yours. That's how I know it can't be the same. I can't take mine off. Ever. And no, I don't get nightmares when I wear my necklace." With that, Elizabeth whipped out her headphones and lay down to tan without another look at Lillian.

Disappointed, Lillian stripped down to her own bikini as well and lay down, not even bothering to smear her never-tanned skin with sun screen.


	7. Chapter 6

**Note: PLEASE READ!** Even if you didn't get to nominate your favorite stories for the **_First Annual Year's End Daughters of the Moon Fanfiction Awards_,** you can still **_VOTE_ **from the list now posted on the thread on the Daughters of the Moon Writers forum (voting is open until January 31st).** Circus**'s very own **Lillian** has been nominated for **Best Original Character - Daughter!** _Also, be on the DotM Writers forum on February 1st for a nice surprise, when BatsuSimisu-Chan and I unveil a new challenge just in time for Valentine's Day!_

**Circus**

_**Chapter 6**_

Jimena stepped out of the LAX airport, feeling strangely nervous to be back in her hometown. The sun was blinding, unshadowed by walls of brick, concrete and steel.

She hailed a taxi and gave him the address of the restaurant. She tried meditative breathing in the back of the cab, but twenty years of resisting made it impossible for her to completely steady her nerves using that tactic.

The restaurant was upscale, nothing she could have afforded twenty years ago, but now she walked in with confidence she didn't feel. Certainly, she had eaten at similar restaurants in New York, but now, so close to her past, her stomach had dropped completely out of her body.

"Welcome, Ma'am, do you have a reservation?" the maître d' asked pleasantly.

"Adrian Melles is expecting me," she answered, trying not to sound intimidated.

"Ms. Castillo?" She nodded. "Follow me please."

As they approached the destination table, a middle aged Columbian man stood. "_Señorita Castillo, bienvenitos a Los Angeles,_" he said warmly as they shook hands.

"_Mucho gusto,_ _Señor Melles, y por favor, me llamas Jimena_."

"_Si me llamas Adrian_."

They sat and made small talk until their orders were taken and the waiter walked away.

"So, I am told you were raised in Los Angeles."

"I was, though I haven't been here in twenty years."

"Well, thank you for coming all the way out here to meet with me. Where in LA are you from?"

"Ninth Street, at Wilshire Boulevard," she said, rubbing the webbing between her thumb and forefinger, to which she had not applied concealer for the first time since leaving.

"My congratulations for your success," he tipped his glass to her. "Actually," his voice suddenly all business, he shifted in his seat, "A woman like you is exactly what I envision for the new _People en Español_. I don't know how familiar you are with our publication…"

"I'm as familiar as I have been able to be. I barely have time to read _People_, and that's part of my job."

"Of course. I took over from the editor in chief two months ago. For its entire publication, _People en Español_ has been as glossy and saccharine as its English counterpart, but _la gente_ do not have glossy, saccharine lives as the white middle class that make up the _People_ readership. This is why I am expanding the human interest department. I want a variety of real stories of _la gente_, which sadly aren't always happy endings. I think you understand this?"

Jimena took a sip of her water through tight lips before responding, "Well." She set her glass down. "Adrian, I still don't completely understand what my part in this expansion would be. I'm an office manager, not an editor."

"From what I understand you are known for spotting stories and talent, getting cooperation from uncompromising parties; you understand a little of every part of a magazine that makes it run. You would work with the senior editor to oversee the entire department."

They discussed more details through the rest of the meal.

"I appreciate," Adrian was saying as the waiter handed back the check after he had paid, "That I am asking you to move across the country, restructure your life, but I hope you also understand that in order to over-haul an entire magazine for a debut in January, I cannot afford to wait longer than a week and a half for your answer."

"I understand completely." They stood and shook again.

"_Espero que nos uniras. Tiene un viaje seguro_."

"_Gracias, Adrian_."

Melles kindly hailed a taxi for Jimena and saw her off.

"Where to?"

Jimena glanced at her watch. She didn't have to be back at the airport for a few hours to catch her flight back to New York. She bit her lip, considering where she wanted to spend her day.

"Lady? Hablas ingles?"

"Yes, I speak English." She told him her old address on Ninth Street. He looked at her like she was crazy, but dutifully pulled away from the curb without comment.

"I work for a magazine; I'm trying to familiarize myself with LA gangs for work."

"I'm not asking questions, Lady – "

"But I am. Is _El Nueve_, Ninth Street, still in control of that area?"

"You said you work for a magazine?"

"That's correct."

"Yeah, they still operate there."

"And Wilshire 5?"

"Yeah, those two cause a murder an hour in that neighborhood." He regarded her through the rearview mirror. "You watch yourself; even the grannies carry guns."

"That's too bad; the grannies are the ones I was hoping to run into," she said, hoping there would still be one or two older women who could remember her grandmother, though they themselves wouldn't have been grandmothers at the time.

He scoffed and shook his head. When he pulled in front of her old apartment, she thanked him and paid with a generous tip.

The building hadn't changed much. The paint was a bit more faded. The graffiti was a bit more prevalent. But even after all these years, it was still home.

"Hey, baby," the punk was moving towards Jimena. She instantly hardened her expression and stiffened her stance. In New York, she was used to keeping her eyes staring blankly ahead, walking swiftly. But this was her neighborhood. She was in control long before these punks were born. She would not walk swiftly away. "You lost, sweetheart?"

"I know exactly where I am." If she could deal with this situation, she would move back to LA.

"I bet you do," he reached her. He was carrying; she didn't have to check for a bulge – the way he moved was enough. "You look like you're looking for something; maybe I can help you."

"Does that usually work on the girls?" she asked dryly.

"You don't know who you're messing with," he said, puffing himself up to look much more menacing.

A sudden adrenaline rush came over her, a kind she hadn't felt in years. It thrilled her. A movement came naturally to her in this state. She smiled toothily – a jaguar's smile. "You don't know who you're messing with either," she said coolly, remembering how her calmness always unsettled her enemies more than others' toughness.

An escalade pulled up to the curb, and three much older thugs jumped out. Jimena froze. Old school thugs like that could far more dangerous than punk kids.

But she was unable to stop herself from blurting out, "Marco?" It was impossible, though, she knew. The thug who resembled her old compatriot was far too young to be Marco, but he turned towards her as though he recognized the name.

"My brother was shot fifteen years ago. How the fuck do you know him?"

"Little Antonio? How did you get caught up in all this? Marco never wanted you in _El Nueve_." She squinted at him. He was certainly not the seven year old she remembered.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, lady?" he had a murderous look in his face, and she knew he wouldn't hesitate. Not if he'd lasted this long.

"Jimena Castillo. My name with _El Nueve_ was Risky. I was Veto's girlfriend." She was desperate for him to remember her. Suddenly his menacing face broke into a grin.

"Ricardo! Check this out!" Antonio waved for the leader to come over. "This is Risky. You remember the stories when we were first jumped."

"You come back to the neighborhood, what, for a visit?"

"I might be moving back." She saw the punk look on dumbstruck. "Though probably not to this neighborhood. Not after the welcome I received."

The three thugs looked over to the punk. "She didn't say she was old school _El Nueve_," he stuttered.

"We'll take care of him for you, Jimena."

She frowned; she knew what that meant. "Nothing too harsh, Antonio. No harm done. He was just talking big."

"We have business to take care of, Antonio," the unnamed thug said.

"When you move back, you come over," Antonio said in parting. "You come see my _mamá_. She always liked you – you got out, made something of yourself."

She tried not to smile. "I will."

They parted, and Jimena spent the rest of the afternoon in Wilshire Park, watching the old men play chess. Some things never change. Some things, she mused as she walked along the side of the pond, would always be home.

Going out of her way to pass the beach she used to spend so many days at, she made her decision. She would write her resignation letter on the plane.


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Sorry for the uber-long wait between updates. Chapter 8 wil follow shortly. Enjoy.

**Circus**

_**Chapter 7**_

The sunburn Lillian received on Monday had faded almost completely by Friday, which was turning out to be a not-so-horrible day.

She had met with Vanessa and "one of her girls," a pretty Greek girl named Eve Argyros, for lunch. Eve turned out to be fairly normal rather than the rebellious, crazy girl Lillian had been expecting.

The two were in the kitchen cooking dinner for themselves and Collin when he got home from work when the phone rang.

"Hello?" Lillian answered the phone.

"Hey, uh, Lillian?" A familiar, deep voice asked.

"Speaking."

"It's Gregory." Lillian dropped the spoon she had been using to stir the sauce with a loud clatter. She hadn't heard from Gregory or Elizabeth since Monday.

"Oh, um, hi."

"Yeah, you said that already. How you doing?"

"Fine, fine. How are you?"

Eve caught Lillian's eye and gave her a questioning look. "Guy?" she mouthed, and Lillian answered with a sharp nod.

"I'm good; I'm good. I'm actually going to a party tonight."

"Oh, well that sounds fun."

"Yeah, my man Brian's dating this girl Shamira who lives in this banging house in the Hills; she's always throwing parties when her parents are outta town."

"That's cool. . ." Lillian frowned. "Um, so. . . did you want to talk to my dad or. . .?

"No! No, I wanted to talk to you. See, Elizabeth's complaining about going to the party because she kinda hates Shamira, and since she said you weren't the worst person she'd ever met – and trust me, comin' from Lizzy that's a compliment – I figured maybe you could come with and keep her from going crazy."

Her heart sank. So he only wanted her to come so she could hang out with Elizabeth. "Well, I can't. Sorry. My friend Eve is staying the night – "

"Oh, awesome, so I'll pick you both up around 10?"

"Um. . ." Lillian looked Eve and mouthed, "party?" She nodded fervently. "Ten sounds great!" she replied unenthusiastically.

"Awesome! See you then." He hung up without waiting for a goodbye.

"Party tonight in the Hills, apparently."

"The Hills?" Eve looked down at her clothes. "I'm not really dressed for a party there."

"We can go to your place – "

"No, that's okay. I'm sure other girls'll be in jeans."

Lillian regarded her a moment; she had forgotten that Eve was probably like most girls known for running away and didn't have a very good home to go to. Unlike Lillian, Eve actually had a figure, but she was probably about the same size. "I have some party clothes that might fit you."

Eve's mouth stretched into thankful grin.

An hour later they sat at the kitchen table with Collin.

"So what kind of crazy trouble are you girls planning on getting into tonight?" he asked between bites.

"Actually, Gregory is going to pick us up around 10 so we can go to a party with him and Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth? Elizabeth Shah?" he asked.

"Um… I don't know her last name."

"Half-Indian? Friends with Gregory."

"Yeah, that sounds like her."

He nodded to himself. "Good, good, getting out, that's good," he mumbled. Lillian and Eve looked at each other with raised eyebrows. "Well, I hope you girls have fun. I'll do the dishes tonight. Why don't you go get ready? If I remember correctly, it'll take a few hours."

"Thanks, Dad."

They left the kitchen and made their way up stairs, when a sudden sense of foreboding overcame Lillian. Something was going to happen that night. Something big. Something from one of her dreams.


	9. Chapter 8

**Circus**

_**Chapter 8**_

"I can't believe you're actually going through with all of this!" Sarah exclaimed as she helped Jimena pack up her office. "I mean, look at you!" Sarah slammed down a flower pot, making Jimena wince at the faint cracking sound produced.

"Sarah, calm down. I need to do this."

"Oh you need do a complete one-eighty on your entire life?" She gestured to Jimena's current appearance.

It was true that Jimena had changed from the way she had been since before meeting Sarah, but rather than change into the new being Sarah claimed she was, Jimena had reverted. There was no one in the office that day, so Jimena wore jeans and a t-shirt, which she never would have done before a few weeks ago, and her make-up was minimal, no longer disguising the two not completely faded tear drop tattoos beneath her right eye.

"Sarah, this is who I am." It was the most truthful Jimena had been in twenty years.

"No, who you are, is my best friend, who is always professional and clean cut and… when did you get those tattoos anyway?!"

"When I was a teenager," she replied calmly.

"Why would you get tattoos like that when you were a teenager?"

"Because I was in a gang."

Sarah looked at Jimena, taken aback and horrified. "Why are you lying to me? Why won't you just tell me what's going on? Are you in some sort of trouble? That day when we were supposed to go out and you just shoved me in the cab – you haven't been the same since then. Did something happen to you?"

"No and yes." She paused trying to figure out how best to explain herself. "No, I'm not lying when I say I was in a gang. I told you that I moved to New York that I was from an LA suburb. That was the lie. I grew up in East LA. Ninth Street. I was jumped into a gang when I was twelve. And yes, that day something did happen. I met someone from my past, and he made me realize that I couldn't live with my lies anymore."

Sarah's face went hard. She shook her head. Tears started down her face. And before Jimena could move to comfort her, Sarah left.

Jimena continued to pack her things, completely subdued.

She shouldn't have been surprised by Sarah's reaction. It was the natural reaction. It was the reaction anyone should have upon meeting a _veterana_. Only the crazy ones were okay with something like that. She smiled despite herself. Serena. Serena had never judged her. Even when they first met, Serena had been cautious, but never judgmental. Serena had been crazy. If she hadn't been, Jimena doubted she would have loved her as much. But Serena was gone, had faded into the grey background of Jimena's mind long ago. With everything and everyone else she had ever loved.

She sighed, and instead of reaching for another object to pack away, Jimena picked back up the stapler she had just packed and placed it back on the mostly bare desk. What was she doing? She had nothing in LA. Nothing at all. She doubted Vanessa, the only survivor of her friends, was still hanging around their old haunts. Collin had undoubtedly moved away, moved on. Then, unbidden, the image of Collin drowning came back to mind. She remembered how he used to have dreams – the best and worst dreams, he had called them – about riding the perfect wave, then drowning as it crashed down upon him. Had Jimena been sensing that he was in danger because she wasn't there? Or had the idea of rejoining the Daughters to fight evil simply brought that memory back to her? She couldn't take the chance, she supposed. She put the stapler back in the box.


	10. Chapter 9

**Circus**

_**Chapter 9**_

"Whoa," was all Lillian could think to say when she, Eve, Elizabeth, and Gregory climbed out of his jeep in front of the huge LA mansion.

Lillian looked over at Eve, who looked just as intimidated by the wealth as she was.

"Shall we, ladies?" Gregory held his arms out for Lillian and Eve to take. They walked towards the mansion together, with Elizabeth scowling right behind them.

Shamira Abijah certainly knew how to throw a party. After two hours, Lillian was quite convinced that she was at a real club instead of just a house party. The DJ played only the best dance music; the alcohol was actually pretty good, unlike at the few other parties she had been able to sneak out to go to in Seattle where the alcohol was a keg of keystone. She had already met Shamira three times, as the gracious hostess did her rounds. And although Shamira was great at throwing parties and was perfectly polite when she introduced herself, it became obvious to Lillian why Elizabeth had such distaste for her. Everyone was beneath Shamira Abijah, according to Shamira Abijah; even her boyfriend, Gregory's friend Brian, was not quite good enough to breathe her air. She didn't invite people to her party: she deigned to allow them on the premisis, and it was starting to piss Lillian off.

"I don't think glaring helps," Lillian commented as she leaned against the same sofa as Elizabeth.

"Something's weird about her tonight."

"Why even pay attention to Shamira? She has plenty of other people to do it." Elizabeth sent a half smile to Lillian.

"Woo-ooo!" a loud shout and a crash drew everyone's attention from what they were doing to a new arrival. Pierced and tattooed, the boy was obviously not an invited guest. But as he walked through the room, no one tried to stop him. They all backed away in fear.

"Hey, man," Brian finally decided to stand up to him. "This is a private party. I'm sure there's somewhere else for you to be."

The other man did not say anything, but suddenly Brian was completely taken over by rage, swinging wildly at him. People just stared, too entranced to even begin a fight chant. All Brian's shots missed, but one shot from whatever-his-name-was and Brian was doubled over in pain. Instead of going to her boyfriend's side, Shamira ran out of the room crying. Gregory jumped in, instead, and tried to pick up where his best friend left off. Gregory was almost immediately punched in the face, with a sickening crack of his jaw being broken. He didn't go down, though.

Lillian looked over at Elizabeth, wondering if there was something they should do, but her new somewhat-of-a-friend seemed to be in another world: her pupils were dilated, her expression blank. And with the same sudden flash that came over Brian, she ran outside.

There was something weird going on. Something… like out of a nightmare.

Lillian looked around wildly for Eve. They had to get out of there. No one seemed to be paying any attention to anything but the fight, which was continuing to go poorly for Gregory and Brian, who got back up to join the fight. Lillian pushed through the crowd, calling Eve's name. Finally, she found her friend huddled in a corner, crying.

"Eve? Eve, what's wrong?"

The girl didn't respond.

"Come on, we gotta get out of here."

Lillian helped Eve up and let the girl lean on her, as she tried to hurry them out of the house. They finally stumbled out of the house and onto the lawn, where both Shamira and Elizabeth stood, facing two others, similarly dressed to the party crasher inside.

"Elizabeth!" Lillian tried to gain the girl's attention, but instead, Eve wretched herself from Lillian's grasp and stumbled towards the other four. "Eve!" Lillian wanted to run and try to help the three girls from whatever was causing them to act so strangely, but she couldn't get her legs to move. And then she saw it, a flash of light, like lightening, coming from Shamira's chest. She moved around to see what was causing it. The fronts of all three girls were bathed in ethereal glows coming from the matching necklaces they wore. Necklaces just like hers.

"Well, isn't this the party of the century?" The party crasher was joining them outside, walking closer to her friends, but not paying any attention to Lillian. As if someone turned off the mute on a television set, noise from within the house suddenly erupted, though Lillian couldn't tell what they were shouting.

Shamira, Elizabeth, and Eve looked behind them at the man and back and forth between him and the two others. Terror and confusion was apparent on all of their features

"What do you want from us?" Shamira asked through her tears.

"Aw, don't cry, Shamira; we just wanna have some fun."

Whatever he wanted, Lillian doubted it would be fun for the now cornered girls. Lillian bit her lip. It was three against three… she should make it three against four. Ripping open her purse with one hand, she reached in and clasped the other around a necklace, thankful she had taken to carrying it around with her since seeing Elizabeth's at the beach. The necklace seemed to come alive in her hand, energizing her. She pulled the chain hastily down and her head and let the amulet hit her chest and illuminate her as well.

"_O Mater Luna, Regina Nocis, aduivo me nunc."_ The words spilled from her mouth before she could even think about stopping them. The three bad boys whirled around to face her. The apparent leader, who crashed the party, looked enraged.

"Well, seems Selene sent four after all." They started towards her and Lillian felt something strange start in her mind. She saw the other three come to themselves again, unwatched by the three goons.

"Hey! What the hell is going on here?" Elizabeth exclaimed angrily. And Shamira, knowing something was wrong backed her up, despite their antipathy towards each other. Eve broke into a run and ended up at Lillian's side. They grasped hands out of instinct or fear and sparks immediately flew everywhere. Lillian felt an intense and terrifying jolt, as she felt the strange sense of déjà vu wash over her, and she knew this was just like a nightmare – it had been one.

Completely furious, the three punks looked like they were about to murder them all, as pain started to pound in Lillian's mind.

As if by an act of God, sirens suddenly pierced through the air and people began pouring out of the mansion. The three were there and then they were gone, as if they simply became shadows. The four girls looked at each other and then they ran. Whether it was to or from something, Lillian had no idea; all she knew was that they needed to know what the hell just happened.


	11. Chapter 10

**Circus**

_**Chapter 10**_

"Jimena!" the squeal brought back a million happy memories to Jimena as she walked into Johnny Rocket's; the old haunt of the last five Daughters. Vanessa jumped into a hug and the women laughed and hug like they were teens again, completely ignoring the indignant looks from the other patrons.

"God, look at you! You look fantastic!"

"You look ten times better, as always," Jimena assured her.

Vanessa squealed and hugged her again. "I'm so glad you called!"

"I am too." The two women took their seats at a booth. When she began looking up Vanessa in the phonebook, she hadn't been expecting to actually find her, but when she had, Jimena knew that they had to get together again. She had run from their friendship, though Vanessa didn't know it, and she knew she had to make it right.

"I can't believe you're back in LA. That's so perfect! You said you're working for People magazine, what's that like?" Vanessa leaned in, sipping her coke from a straw.

Jimena smiled broadly. How could she have possibly thought she was happy back in New York, away from sweets-and-sunshine Vanessa?

Jimena told Vanessa everything. About her job, to which Vanessa gasped excitedly and predictably at the celebrity names. About Sarah, to which Vanessa laid an understanding hand on her arm, knowing what it was like to try to move on and make new friends after losing the most important person in your life. About Nick, to which Vanessa asked all the suggestive questions Jimena had never felt comfortable answering to Sarah about but happily shared with Vanessa. They giggled and laughed loudly and whispered and shouted all about men and relationships and being thirty-something and single and celebrities and what New York's like and how LA has changed.

Finally, they began talking about Vanessa job, and Jimena listened, barely keeping herself from tearing up, as Vanessa described how she fought for girls – girls like Tianna and Catty – to live better lives, stay at home, stay in school. Jimena smiled at her friend, who could have been anyone with her looks and brains but instead chose to try to stop what happened to the two of them from happening to other friends of girls who just one day disappeared.

"… And Eve," Vanessa was saying, "I'm not supposed to have favorites, but I can't help but love her – you would too. She's just so… alive. She's smart and wise beyond her years and just wants to break free of everything. She reminds me so much of Serena. I was actually going to see her today, but she and Lillian Killingsworth just – " She stopped suddenly and looked guiltily at Jimena. "I'm sorry; you're back a week and … well that's probably the last name you wanna hear."

"No, it's fine," Jimena said tightly. And it was fine, right? She left him, didn't she? "So… you're still friends with Collin?"

"Yeah… I mean…"

"So, he's doing well? Still… surfing?"

"Surfs, like, every day. He was living in Seattle for a while; I don't know how he survived. But Lillian's a doll. She's really sweet; I think this friendship could be really great for Eve."

"That's… great."

"Okay, we're not talking about this anymore. At all. Ever."

Jimena smiled again. "Thanks, Vanessa."

"So, anyway…" Vanessa began prattling on again, and it didn't take long for Jimena to once again join the conversation.

After four hours of almost non-stop talk and a promise for dinner and drinks the following Monday night, Jimena and Vanessa finally parted ways.

Jimena sighed as she climbed the stairs to her apartment. She could have afforded a much better apartment, with an elevator, but living in her old neighborhood made her feel strangely alive again.

She unlocked the apartment, with much less difficulty as her last, slipped into the dark front hallway. The door was barely closed before she broke. Tears poured from her eyes, as shuddering sobs brought her to the floor. Collin… hadn't she come back for Collin? Hadn't she been terrified he was in danger? And what? He was married? He had a family? A perfect family with a darling little girl…

Jimena reached up to the hall table and grabbed the first thing she could find. She threw it as hard as she could down the hall until it hit the wall with the shattering of glass. _"¡Joder!"_

And there, on the floor, she sobbed herself to sleep.

A/n: Joder = fuck (it)


End file.
